It's a Grand Night for Reaping
by Bizarbara Rose
Summary: Margy and Wayne Frake are thrown from their farm in District 11 into a deadly game - the 46th annual Hunger Games, that is. An unexpected volunteer, an overly-charasmatic fisher and a Capitol actress make and break the siblings' hearts, but only one will make it out alive... T for very vague violence. VERY old, I don't plan on finishing.
1. Wayne: Good Morning

**Wayne**

In the early morning in District 11, I awake to my little sister's screams. She is having a nightmare. Margy continues to cry in her sleep, blubbering like a little kid about how she was chosen for the 46th annual Hunger Games.

This doesn't go without reason, because today is the day of the Reaping.

She is already 16 and she put in her name a few more times for tessarae. She has a total of 20 slips in the glass ball.

I'm 18, and I also got tessarae, for a total of 22. I guess the odds aren't really in our favor.

We were actually very fortunate to not need tessarae the past few years, and life was good on the farm (well, good for District 11). We sold and traded produce with the other families in the neighborhood. However, one winter we weren't prepared for a blizzard, and all of our crops died. So many families had put in orders in advance for vegetables from the farm and we let them down. In turn, they never trusted us again. As time went by, our business collapsed, and we had gone to the point where we considered sacrificing our pet hog, Blue Boy, and selling his meat. Such goods were very rare in the district, and anyone who heard we were offering it would give us anything for a slice of ham. But my dad loved that pig so much, he wouldn't let that happen.

So, that's why we have to resort to tessarae.

Mom and Dad haven't stirred yet, probably used to the such noise from when we lived in District 6. But I sit up and walk over to Margy's bed. She is shaking with fear, traumatized. I sit next to her and gently put my arm around her shoulders, inadvertently waking her up with a start in the process.

"It was me." She softly shudders. "They picked me." I lean down and give her a squeeze.

"Calm down," I whisper. "It's not you, Marge. It'll never be you. I promise. You're safe. You're home. There's nothing to worry about." For a moment, she seems to believe it, but hot tears continue to streak her fair skin. She wipes her face with her arm and sits up. Then she returns the hug. After a few moments, I begin to pull away, but she holds on tighter.

"You promise."  
"Yes, I promise." Convinced, she releases her arms and looks me in the eye.

"Thanks, Wayne." I try to give her a comforting smile, but I just can't. Instead, I simply and frankly say,

"Try to get some more sleep."

"You too."

With that she slowly lays back down and I pretend to walk back to my bed, but as soon as Margy's eyes are closed I pace around the room. I'm also nervous about the Reaping, but my way of expressing fear is different from my sisters. She acts out like a five-year-old. But the fact that today is the day hasn't hit me emotionally yet. You know that feeling when you know something is happening but some part of your brain isn't registering it? That's what I'm feeling right now. It just doesn't seem real, it feels like a dream. I feel like in a little while I'll wake up in District 6, no tessarae needed and a loving family ready to volunteer for us.

Now the alarm goes off in the city square, telling us all to wake up and prepare for the Reaping.

_**Authors note:**  
Hey! Would you look at that! My first fanfic! Well, first chapter of my first fanfic. I know it's not much of a story right now, but I just wanted to put the idea out there. Please review if you like the idea (or if you want to hear what's up with District 6), and if I get enough positive reviews, I'll publish the rest of the story!_

~Bizarbara,  
The Panemaniac Thespian!


	2. Margy: Ms Metcalf Arrives

**_Author's note:_**

_In the previous chapter I got my districts mixed up. I meant to say that the Frakes used to live in District 3, not 6. Sorry!_

_~Bizarbara_

**Margy**

I finally wake up and start getting dressed. I have my yellow sundress, Wayne has his white dress shirt and vest, and our parents wear similar clothing. We all head to the city square immediately as the second alarm goes off, telling us that the Capitol escort is arriving in an hour.

The walk to the square is long and monotonous, and nobody says a word besides the occasional whimper of a child. It's extremely difficult to choke back the fear I feel inside of me. I just want to curl up into a little ball and cry my eyes out. I want to go back to District 3.

I suppose you want to hear about District 3? All right, here goes.

My father, Abel, worked as a technician. Our whole family lived in 3 – aunts, uncles, cousins, even our grandparents. I had a boyfriend who still lives there now- his name is Harry. We dated on-and-off since I was 15, but he always had to go do his job every day from 5 in the morning to 9 at night. He was one of the workers at a power plant, and he got one day off a month. If he was caught slacking, the Peacekeepers would punish his family. And trust me, the Peacekeepers in the lower-number districts are a lot more strict than anywhere else. Actually, to the surprise of everyone else, Harry adored work. It meant getting to see the latest in Capitol technology, which he was fascinated with. The simplest hologram could impress him. But Harry felt so bad he couldn't spend more time with me that he would occasionally slip out of work early to meet me. I had no idea that it was against the rules. He kept making it sound like the boss was giving him a break. I shouldn't have fell for that. And soon he had to pay. The Peacekeepers caught him sneaking out three times in a row and found out the cause of the disturbance.

Me.

And that's how we were banished to District 11.

Harry's heart was broken, and I guess mine should have been too. Everyone always assumed we were in love with each other, but I never really loved him. I felt extremely guilty when my whole family had to be relocated, but Mom and Dad never blamed me. Even Wayne didn't point fingers.

But I knew this was all my fault.

I soon realize that I'm in the group for girls 15 and up as I face a stage. The Capitol representatives are unraveling the canvas projector screens for the video they show every year. It is not long until a snobbish, middle-aged Capitol woman with long green hair takes the stage. Her sparkling platform heels are so high that I can't imagine wearing them for three seconds without snapping my ankle. She taps the microphone, causing a loud feedback sound. She regains her focus and begins.

"Good morning, District 11! My name is Rosalina Metcalf. I will be the escort to the next lucky tribute for the 46th annual Hunger Games!" She chirps. She smiles as if expecting applause, but no noise escapes from the crowd. Ms. Metcalf continues. "Also, lets give a big hand to this year's mentor, Albert Heppenshtal!"

There is scattered applause, but not a lot. I look toward the wing of the stage as a stocky, ginger-haired man with round glasses walks on. He seems very composed. He shakes hands with Ms. Metcalf.

"Pleasure to be here, Rosalina."

I hate this. I hate how the Capitol pretends that this is a joyous occasion. It's not. It's the day that all children 12 to 18 dread. It's the day that some innocent kid gets sent off to fight to the death. Why would these people try and make it sound like a privilege?

For their Capitol audience, I guess. But I still hate that they find these "tributes" being slaughtered as a source of entertainment.

I have missed some of the talk of honor that Ms. Metcalf perkily rambles into the microphone. But I know that it's all lies. Then she cues the movie to begin.

"War. Terrible war…"

I freeze, knowing all too well that next they immediately choose the tributes. Panicking, I look over to Wayne, who is already looking at me. He calmly mouths, "They won't pick you." But somehow, my brother's words can't soothe me now. I look around for a potential way out, but every direction is blocked by Peacekeepers. I look up only when I hear the male tribute's name.

"Wayne Frake!"

No.


	3. Wayne: A Volunteer

**Wayne**

Me.

I knew this was probably going to happen, but it still comes as a shock.

That's when it finally clicks.

This is happening. Now.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

No one volunteers.

I start walking to the stage as the other kids clear out of my way. They all give me a look of pity, but I know it's also a look of relief that it's me, not them. When I make it on stage, Ms. Metcalf shakes hands with me. Then she reaches into the girls' reaping ball.

"Betty B-"

"I volunteer!" A voice in the crowd proudly states. I make eye contact with the girl.

It's Margy.

**_…_**

The rest of the day is a blur. The next thing I know, I'm in a plush room in the Justice Building. I say goodbye to my parents, who immediately began crying when they saw me. Mom held me tight and wouldn't let go.

"Mom, it's going to be okay. I'll be fine," I lied. I had no idea how I could possibly make it out alive.

"Survival skills," She says between sobs. "Learn some… survival skills… not weapons. I want you… to come home…both of you…somehow…"

Dad, who is standing behind Mom, gives his own advice, but I can barely hear what he's saying. He's starting to break down too.

"Come on, Melissa," He says as the Peacekeepers approach the two. "Our time's up."

"No! No it's not!" She cries. But soon the Peacekeepers corral them out of the room. They both call "I love you," and I reply, "I love you too," but I don't think they heard me because the doors slammed shut before I could say it. The next visitor slowly walks in. Long, dark hair, red dress, and beautiful blue eyes.

"Eleanor."

"Wayne."

I jump up from my chair and we embrace. I can feel her tears running down my shirt. I don't care.

"Be safe," She whispers. "I need you back in District 11. I couldn't go on without you, Wayne."

"I promise you," I softly reply, "I will do my best to come home. You're my whole world." She lets go and gives me a sad smile.

"And you're mine." She kisses me on the cheek. "See you soon."

"Yeah," I say, "See you soon." The Peacekeepers are right on time, and they escort Eleanor out. A couple of school friends come by to say goodbye, and then we're on the train.

In the "living room" car, Ms. Metcalf, Albert, Margy and I watch all of today's Reapings. Ms. Metcalf explains that, because of time difference issues, they only did the ceremony in Districts 12 through 7, and tomorrow they'll to 6 through 1. I realize Margy was the only one who volunteered. She looked really brave up on that screen, and I just looked like a shaking child. After watching 7, Ms. Metcalf and Albert go to their separate cars, and Margy and I sit alone in the living room. I decide to ask the question that's been in my mind since the Reaping.

"Why did you do that?" I ask. "Why did you volunteer? After you were so frightened of getting picked, you chose to put yourself in. Why?"

"Because," she says slowly, "I wanted to be there in the Capitol for you. I didn't want you to alone in the Games. I thought… if we stuck together, it wouldn't be as scary."

For the first time all day, I actually smiled.

"Thanks, sis."

She shrugs.

"No problem."

We both laugh at the exchange, though we know there is nothing funny about what we are about to go through the next couple of days.

_Driving at night, in the cool of the night, moving ever further from home._

_Pretty soon will be light, shining ever so bright._

_Shining on the Capitol dome._


	4. Margy: The Competition and the Mincemeat

**Margy**

It's morning, and I wake up to see the Capitol right outside my window. The trip would've taken only a couple of hours, but this year only the first three districts got those types of trains. We had a slower one this time. Like the poorer districts don't deserve a fast train.

Wayne is in a bed a few feet away from mine. I look at the clock up on the wall. It's 9 AM. I'm surprised that perky early-bird Metcalf hasn't woken us up yet. I whisper-yell over to Wayne.

"Psst! Wayne! Are you awake?" He doesn't respond. I try again, a bit louder.

"Wayne! Hey! Wayne!" Again, he doesn't respond. I get a bit louder.

"Waaaaaaaaayyyyne!" He rolls over and sarcastically asks.

"What is it, darling sister?"

"Are you awake?"

"I am now," he says as he sits up. "What's wrong? Can't sleep anymore?"

"Yeah," I said. "Can't sleep."

"Want to watch today's Reapings? See who we're up against?"

I dumbly answer, "Uh-huh." He turns on the TV in our room and selects one of the Reapings – District 4. A boy about my age is reaped. His name is Patrick Gilbert. He attempts to act cool and confident for the camera, though everyone can tell he's scared to death.

District 1 has a beautiful 18-year-old who looks like she could be a performer. Her name is Emma Koslowski. She too tries the cool and cocky look, added to by saying into the microphone, "I know, what a lousy name. Just call me Emily Arden. I like that name better!" The escort cackles, but nobody else laughs.

We skip through another few Reapings and find an interesting one- District 2. The girl is only 12, and her name is Violet Ginger. She seems way too young and frail to do any real fighting.

Wayne and I watch just about all of them and find that we had totally skipped District 3. Our old home. We see a guy who seems to be 17 get selected. Before he can come up on stage, I hear the shout of another boy.

"I volunteer for him! I volunteer as tribute!" The boy that just yelled is now walking up the stage with his back to the cameras. His voice sounds familiar, but I can't see who it is. The male escort with dashing purple hair asks why he did that. The boy steps up to the microphone. I can't believe what he says next.

"I saw the District 11 reaping yesterday, and I also want to be in the Games, to protect Ms. Margaret Frake."

It's Harry.

**…**

Once we're in our quarters, we eat our lunch and meet up with our mentor, Albert. He seems a bit tipsy. He is currently holding a giant pot and a spoon.

"You got a nice family." He says. "They sent me some homemade mincemeat this morning. Something about 'thank you in advance for helping our kids come home.'"

"That's not really mincemeat," I admit. "It's sort of a tofu-version. We can't really afford real meat."

"Well, whatever they put in there, it's amazing." He shovels some into his mouth. "I just can't get enough."

Wayne is clearly annoyed. He tries to steer the conversation back on track.

"So, about our training?"

"What? Oh, yeah, that." Albert swallows a mouthful of mincemeat then puts the pot down. "What I learned in my day is that stealth and survival skills are key. I won my Hunger Games by hiding out, only killing when it was absolutely necessary." He pauses, as if seeing it in front of him. "The arena was a frozen tundra. Hills and hills of snow and ice, and somehow it never melted. Six tributes froze to death. But I knew how to survive. Campfires are good, but the smoke will give away your location. There's a special kind of root made by the Capitol – it's called crondly. If you put Crondly in a fire it barely gives off smoke. It is long and bright pink. It's normally used for fireplaces, but it's in the earth of most arenas. Find it and use it. Got me?"

We both nod our heads. He takes another spoonful of mincemeat.

"This mincemeat is so amazing! Can you tell your mom to make another batch of this stuff?"

"No," I say. "Now what else do we need to know?"

"Once you get to training, find the most obscure weapon possible to practice with. The Gamemakers like to put random things in their backpacks."

"Random?" Wayne asks, "How random are we talking here?"

"Well, you might find a chainsaw, you might find a couple of ring-toss hoops!" He laughs at himself hysterically. "But in all sheriousness, expect the unexpected. The Gamemakers will put 'twisties' in the Game to keep it entertaining for the audience. But for now," He takes one last scoop of mincemeat and puts it down. "Let's get you in wid yer styliss. Tomorrow is the opening cherem… cerem… you're gonna get dressed up."

_Author's note:_

_Heppenshtal = Haymitch. Need I say more?  
When I first thought of the idea for this story, that was the first thing that popped into my head.  
It's like,  
BAM._

_That is all. :)_

_~Bizarbara_


	5. Wayne: Let the Games Begin

**Wayne**

I walk into the stylist's office to see she is a typical Capitol fashion freak. She has bright orange hair in an elaborate ringlet-braid style, topped off with a giant yellow butterfly hairpiece. Her dress has nearly all the colors of the rainbow and to say that her jewelry was large would be an understatement. Her eye makeup, which is supposed to look like flames, glitters in the light. But she's not really the sharpest knife in the drawer. She's actually really flaky.

My costume is one of the least exciting and yet most humiliating of all the tribute parades. I will have a straw hat along with and emerald-colored glitter tuxedo. The coat has sequin corn designs scattered on it. I take one look at the outfit and immediately find it ridiculous. But I suppose I have to wear it.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She squeaks as I start to try it on. "You're missing the accessories!" She runs and grabs a huge plastic bag. She sticks her hand in and pulls out a small toy that resembles a smiling pig head and pins it onto my hat.

"…A pig?" She nods as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course! You live on a farm, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but we don't breed livestock. We just grow produce."

"I know, I know, but when I hear the word 'farm'…" She pauses for dramatic effect and widens her eyes. "I get a vision. An artistic vision!" She grabs me by the shoulders and makes a large gesture, as if seeing it herself and pointing it out to me. "A boy and girl playing with a beautiful boar. And then I see that you two are a boy and a girl. So I think to myself, it's a sign! And I must go forth with my vision."

The finishing touch is a pitchfork that I have to hold on the chariot. Then she puts me in front of a giant mirror. Great. I look like a sparkly farmer with a pig hairpiece.

"Thank you," I feel obliged to say.

"No no no, thank you! You helped me see my vision through!"

I get changed back into my regular clothes. Tomorrow I have to actually wear the outfit.

**Margy**

I am sitting in my chariot, ready to go. Ready to officially be welcomed into a world where we are supposed to be transformed into killing machines for the public's enjoyment.

I'm wearing a glittering green dress with a corn pattern, matching Wayne's tuxedo. My outfit isn't nearly as bold as some of the other tributes', but at least it's not embarrassing.

I see the boy district 4 tribute, Patrick, who is stroking and feeding his chariot's horse. He and his district partner are wearing shimmering teal togas with a gold rope around the waist. The outfits have feathery accents around the bottom and top, I guess to represent fishing lures. The girl's headband is made to look like small fish in her hair, and they both have makeup that suggests gills. He catches me looking at him and approaches me.

"Hey there, Bobbylocks," I haven't known him for two seconds and he gives me a nickname. "Want a sugar cube?" He holds out the handful that he was just feeding the horse.

"Bobbylocks?"

"Because of your hair… it bounces up and down when you walk."

"Everybody's hair bounces," I reply.

"Mine doesn't." I roll my eyes and stare straight ahead. "Listen, I was just thinking, you seem like the adventurous, sophisticated type. I was wondering if you'd like to form an alliance once the Games begin? We could train together."

"Thank you, but no thank you, Mr…"

"Gilbert. Pat Gilbert."

"I won't be needing your assistance in the arena."

"Whatever you say, Bobbylocks." The doors open, releasing the horses. As Pat runs to get into his chariot, he calls back to me, "So that's a no on the sugar cube?"

**…**

The rest of the pre-games things go quick. The interview with Caesar Flickerman goes fine. In training, I practice survival skills with Wayne, who also tries out spears, arrows, and swords. Harry actually approached me one day and asked if we could train together because "After all, once we find each other in the arena we're going to work as a team." So we look at a couple weapons and practice teamwork. But I know I can't do any real fighting. Instead, when I am in with the Gamemakers, I identify edible plants, make a few quick snares, and do a little camouflage. I was probably the most boring display they saw all day. But I end up getting a score of 7 and Wayne gets a 10. Harry gets an 8, Pat gets a 6, little Violet also gets a 6, and Emily, the cocky girl, gets an 8. I've seen her train, and she's not really the fighting type either. I wonder what she had to do to get her score.

Now I am in my grey junp suit with a front zipper, standing in the "final preparations" room with the stylist. She kisses me on both cheeks and says her farewell as she gestures towards the elevator to the arena.

I don't want to go. This is happening all too fast.

She practically pushes me into the tube and waves as I shoot upward to the starting position. The countdown begins. I look to Wayne. He's shaking. I realize I am too. The 60 seconds fly by, and the next thing I know, we are at 5 seconds.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

And the bloodbath begins. Nearly all the tributes run for the Cornucopia. I run away.

Far away.

My mind was clouded so much with fear that, once I find a hiding place, I take in my surroundings.

I'm currently hiding in some sort of makeshift tent.

Not makeshift. It's a fine tent, but it's old and tattered. It's striped with bright colors. I climb out of the tent and look around. The sky is dark with ominous storm clouds.

There are giant man-made structures that could fit multiple people. Some seem to be made to throw people back and forth, but some spin out of control and could hit anyone within an 8-yard radius. The biggest one is a towering wheel with dangling seats. All the trees are tangled in pennants. Bright lights on the tents sputter sparks. Some have started small fires that are easily extinguished by the rain that is beginning to pour. There are carts with strange looking food items that seem like they could or could not be toxic rolling freely in the wind.

I think I recognize this from school textbooks. They taught us briefly about celebrations people had a long time ago. Before the Dark Days and before Panem was split up into districts. This is from the time where districts were called states. I realize what I'm looking at just as blue lightning strikes the top of the rides.

The arena is a state fair.

A state fair from hell.


	6. Wayne: Rings and New Allies

**Wayne**

It's a state fair!

I just make it out of the bloodbath with my life as the Careers start to attack the weaker. I just keep running away, trying to get somewhere safe. Finally, I find a spot near a few bushes that hide me conveniently. In somewhat safety, I take a look at what I grabbed– a red satchel. I empty it out and see that it's full of small, metal hoops. I don't really understand their use, but they sure are heavy. It's like they're made of lead.

The cannon fires multiple times, but I can't focus enough to count them. I guess the bloodbath is over.

Behind me, I see a midway game with a faded sign that reads "Hoop-La!" I get it now. The Gamemakers are trying to keep everything in the general theme of the state fair. I have to admit, it's a creative idea.

I am lost in thought until a twig snaps. I turn around. A boy tribute is approaching me nun chucks designed to resemble two boxes of Cracker Jacks. Murder is flaring in his eyes. It seems he is excited for his first kill. I have no idea how I'm supposed to defend myself. I'm frozen in fear. I do the first thing that comes to my mind – throw the hoop at the boy.

It hits him in the head pretty hard, and his forehead starts to gush blood.

The cannon fires.

Oh my God.

I just killed a kid with a ring toss hoop.

**Pat**

We're three hours into the game, I'm hidden amongst a couple of trees, and my strategy is working great.

During training, I managed to convince a few dames to be in an alliance with me once we found each other.

I had no need to get any weapons as long as the girl was eager to protect me. Thankfully, they are. My alliance with the girl from 7 just ended as she was dealt a deadly blow to the head by a metal balloon on a stick (State fair-inspired weapons? These Gamemakers must have run out of ideas this year). So I'm back on my own, but as soon as I find another one of those girls ready to defend me, I'll be back on track.

I take off my boots to walk around quietly so the other tributes don't hear me. I duck behind a midway game and look around. The rain is pouring so hard that it's making it hard to see.

There's a small striped tent a few feet away. It's moving! There must be someone in there.

I hear the unmistakable curse from the mouth of a girl tribute. I see her cautiously walk out and take in her surroundings. It's the girl from 11!

There's nobody else within 20 yards, so I approach Margy from behind.

"Hey, Bobbylocks," I whisper into her ear. She turns around in an instant, obviously startled.

"Well if it isn't the cocky player boy from District 4!" She mutters.

"Well, if it isn't, his clothes sure fit me!" I give her a smirk, but she's not amused. "So, how about that alliance?"

She gives me a fed-up glare, then nervously looks around. We both spot an 18-year-old Career who is only moments from discovering us. She quietly beckons for me to hide in the tent with her.

Once we're in, she continues.

"I already told you, I don't need any help from you! I've got everything I need, that you very much."

"Is that right? What did you manage to get from the Cornucopia?" She stops being stubborn and admits the truth.

"Nothing. But at least I-"

"Nothing! What a shame!"

"I should just kill you right now. I spent a lot of time in the hand-to-hand combat station."

"Really? Are you sure you don't want a reliable ally and a couple of lethal balloon darts?" I pull the gifts from the District 7 girl out of my pocket. "Could be good for hunting. Not a lot to hunt out here, except some jabberjays and rabbits. But at least it's a source of food, and it seems like you don't have any other option."

She's convinced to the point of grabbing for them, but I pull my hand away. "Alliance first."

"Okay, okay," she finally gives in. "We can be allies."

"Good girl", I say as I hand her a few darts. "Now go kill a few rabbits. I'll stay in here and… guard the tent."

"Oh, no you don't," she protests. "You're not going to sit here in safety while I go out in the thunder and lightning to get us food. We're going to wait out this storm together." I have to admit I like this girl's spirit. She's not easily tricked like the other girls.

"All right, Bobbylocks."

"Don't call me Bobbylocks!" She seems annoyed, but she breaks a foolish smile. I can tell this girl has something special. But I don't know what to call it yet. Spunk? Passion?

But I know she's special.

**Wayne**

Day one is over. I hear the Capitol anthem blare and see the symbol fly in the sky. I'm so tired that I almost fall asleep to the sound of the song. I doze for a few seconds, but I wake myself back up. Apparently, I missed the deaths announcement. I can only pray Margy isn't one of them. The anthem cuts off. I decide to find a better hiding spot, so I slip into a large bush. I start to feel hungry. I frantically search my bag for a morsel of food that I may have missed, because I can't see anything else that might be edible. No berries, no game, nothing. At the very bottom of my satchel is a corn dog. Nice. I have to make it last, though. Tomorrow morning I'll eat half, and that night I'll eat the other half.

The rain has died down by now, and it's so silent that it seems spooky. Just then, I hear rustling in the bush next to me. I flinch and hold up a hoop, prepared for the worst. But it's just Violet, the girl from District 2. She accidentally crawls into my bush, but as soon as she spots me she immediately begins to retreat.

"Wait!" I call. "I'm not going to hurt you! Violet!" She stops when she hears her name. She cautiously turns around.

"Alliance?" I propose. She looks at the metal ring, which I immediately drop. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Okay," she hesitantly says. "You promise?"

"I promise," I say, even though I know I didn't really keep my last promise. I feel like being an alliance with a little girl like Violet will make the Games less lonely for both of us.

"You promise," She repeats. She smiles. "All right. What's your name?"

"Wayne. I'm from District 11."

"Oh, right. Your sister is also in the arena?"

"Yes. Somewhere."

"Well, as you apparently know, I'm Violet. I'm from District 2. My daddy is a Peacekeeper."

"Wow."

I hear her stomach audibly rumble. Then I remember in District 2, the shortage of food isn't nearly as bad as 11. She's not used to going this long without a meal. I reach into my bag and break off a large piece of my corndog to share.

"Here. You look starving."

"No, no, I'm okay, thank you." Her face is arranged in a shape of discomfort as her stomach growls again.

"Please. I insist." She slowly takes the food.

"Thank you," She says. "By the way, while I was hiding out in an exhibition hall I saw a bunch of pickles nobody had found yet. I can't find it in the dark, though. Will you come with me to get some in the morning?"

"Sure thing, kid," I say as I slowly drift to sleep. "Sure thing."


	7. Margy: Day 2

**Margy**

I am woken up by the singing of mockingjays. For some reason, I feel calm and comfortable. I slept pretty soundly.

Well, except my nightmare. In it, the Careers had killed Wayne and were coming for me next. I shudder a bit when I think of it.

"Rise and shine, Bobbylocks," a voice whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter open. I realize that Patrick Gilbert's arms are around me. It seems I was sleeping on his lap. I blush.

"Good morning," I say, pulling away.

"You talked in your sleep last night. Something about a fellow named Wayne?"

"Yes, my brother," I answer.

"Yeah. You just seemed so scared. So I felt like I should've…"

"Thank you," I turn bright red as I try to brush off the subject. "So, are you ready to go hunting?"

"But shouldn't I guard the tent?" Pat whines.

"No. We have to stick together."

"But if someone breaks into the tent, I-"

"Please, Pat?" I give him a pleading look. I don't want to go out on my own. He gives in.

"Oh… all right. I'll come." I smile.

"Good." With that, we exit the tent together, darts in hand.

**Emily**

Wow. The Careers are so conceited.

I just broke off from the group, but I managed to snag a normal knife and a bag of fruits from a sponsor. I tuck both into my purple backpack and start off for my next alliance.

I'm glad I paid attention to my mentor's plan for me. I think I have a great strategy.

Start out the game with the Careers, and after the first night, leave when they aren't paying attention. Then, find a male tribute, "ally" the boy, then kill him in his sleep.

The last step is going to be hard for me, but my mentor said it's the only way I'll get ahead in the game.

Practically unarmed, I walk straight towards a shooting gallery booth, which I know for a fact is one of the male tribute's hiding spots. I see his blonde hair and grey eyes peek over the counter. I raise both hands up.

"I come in peace! I just want an alliance!" I say. The boy looks baffled that I would want to fight along side him.

"Me?" He asks, standing up straight.

"No, the wooden duck on the shelf," I sarcastically reply.

"I don't believe you," He says. He positions the toy gun on the counter on me as if it were a lethal weapon.

"No, no, I'm dead serious. I mean," I lean in to him from the other side of the counter. "How could a handsome fellow like you not have a little lady like me with you?"

The boy keeps a straight face and says, almost in monotone, "I'm not making any alliances. Besides, I have a girlfriend. Having friends of the opposite gender is outside of the relationship rules I set for us."

Oh. He's one of _those_ guys. I keep trying.

"Well, if you ask me," I lean in more. "I'd say that rules were made for breaking."

I can't believe this isn't making a dent in his emotions. I lean in to the point where we're nose-to-nose.

"You know what I mean?" He pushes me away.

"I'm sorry," he insincerely says, "but I'm not in the market for an ally right now." He yanks a rope that drops a curtain over the stand. It reads, "Sorry, we're CLOSED."

**Wayne**

"Wayne?" I hear a Margy whisper. I can tell she's trying to wake me up.

"Wayne! Wake up!" I smile at the sound of her voice.

"Waaaaayne!" I keep my eyes closed.

"What is it, darling sister?" I ask.

"Wayne, I'm not Margy. It's Violet. District 2?" I open my eyes and meet her green ones. That's right. The Hunger Games. My heart sinks.

"Right," I slowly say. "Sorry about that."

"You really miss your family, don't you?" Violet asks. I sit up.

"Yes," I admit. "Don't you?"

"Well… I don't have a family. Not really."

"What do you mean?"

She sighs. "Like I told you, my daddy is a Peacekeeper. My mother and I...We never see him anymore. Ever. He's become part of the Capitol's slave army. And my mother…" She looks down and whispers. "She's a little less than sane because of it." She looks like she's about to cry.

"Oh…" I softly say. "I'm so sorry…"

I realize that I stepped on an extremely touchy subject for Violet and attempt to change it.

"So, where is the exhibition hall that you were talking about?"

She takes a few seconds to breathe, then answers me.

"Not too far away. It's right behind the building marked 'Livestock Pavilion.' See?" she points it out to me through the bushes.

"Yeah, I see it. Okay then, let's go." I begin to emerge from the bush, but Violet grabs my pant leg.

"No, wait! Shouldn't you have a piece of the corn dog? You should be starving by now!" I smile.

"Don't worry, Violet. Once we get the pickles, we'll feast."

_**…**_

We're here.

The exhibition hall.

Well, it's called a hall, but it's more of a large circus tent.

Violet tells me to wait outside and be a lookout while she sneaks in.

I get a quick glimpse inside. There is a whole wall with shelves and shelves of pickles, mincemeats, and vegetables. I remember in State Fairs, people would compete with food like this. Violet shoos me out as she begins to pick out which foods we should have. Scanning the area, I see nothing of threat within what seems to be a mile. But then I hear some rustling by the back entrance, as if someone is running into the tent. I bolt to the back and see a single, muscular tribute with a cotton-candy colored sword and an evil grin on his face as if I've fallen into his trap.

The boy from 2.

Just then, I realize what's going on. Violet screams.

"WAYNE! Help!" I chuck a hoop at the boy before he can attack, and he topples over. I dash inside. I now understand the plan. The District 2 boy was supposed to distract me while the other Careers, who now stand over a petrified Violet, assaulted her. The boy's cannon fires. The District 3 girl points a sword similar to his at Violet.

"Sorry, Vi, but we gotta win this game," She says with a wild look in her eye. "We don't need a little girl like you standing in our way."

"No!" I cry. I pounce and knock down the girl, just too late.

Violet is stabbed right in the chest.

The girl and I are both on the ground. She raises her weapon, now dripping with fresh blood.

"Do you want to be next?" She demands.

"No!" I jump up.

"Then get out of here, eleven," She points the sword at the back exit. "Go!" I slowly approach Violet, who is struggling to breathe, pick her up, and walk out as the Careers start stealing the food.

"I'm so sorry," I tell her as soon as we're out. I realize tears are now gushing out of my eyes. "How could I have been so stupid? This is all my fault." She pulls her hand up to my shoulder and closes her eyes.

"I… f-forgive you…" She is able to whisper.

"It's going to be okay," I say. "You'll be all right. We'll heal you."

"No…it's… it's over…"

Then, dead silence. The cannon fires. I lay her down in the grass. Tears are now coming out of my eyes in a steady stream.

Why do I care this much? Violet is just a kid that I met last night.

Then I end up answering my own question.

Because she was so young. She didn't do anything to deserve this. If the Games didn't exist, she could be continuing a content life in District 2, and she could live to be an adult. She could do something special with her life.

And now the Capitol has ruined that.

I hate them.


	8. Pat: Attacked

**Pat**

Two rabbits, one squirrel, and a single jabberjay.

That was our haul from our three-hour hunting trip today.

Well, that, and we also got a spear from a sponsor. I guess he thought that darts couldn't kill an animal. But we didn't end up using it. I have to admit, it was actually kind of… fun. For the first time in the Games, Margy and I actually did something as a team. It was nice.

I sit down in the tent, skinning the game. Margy is off to dig for some mystery root that her mentor told her about before we cook anything. I had insisted she take the spear just in case she runs into trouble.

Suddenly, I hear a noise. Almost like… mumbling?

I peek out of the tent and see the girl from 3. She's carrying jars of fresh fruits and vegetables. I'm about to panic, because Margy took the weapons, but the girl doesn't notice me. Slowly, I attempt to sneak back inside, but her head snaps around when she hears rustling. Then I see the mallet she's carrying. From a Test Your Strength stand? Anyway, she immediately drops the jars and shouts.

"Ah-hah! I suppose you're the boy from four."

"Uh… yeah…" Oh, those are smart last words, Gilbert.

"Looks like the old fishers won't have a victor this year," she says as she raises the mallet.

Thinking fast, I pick up a tree branch and block the swing as she tries to bring it crashing down over my head. Then she swings it around again, but I'm prepared to block it. At that moment, the unexpected happens. She puts all her strength into one more hit, and it snaps my branch in half.

"Margy!" I yell as she is prepared to strike again.

**Margy**

I can't believe that I found the crondly!

I quickly stuff a bunch of it into my pocket and head back for camp. Then I see Pat in the distance. I try to wave, but then I see he's being attacked. The District 3 girl?

"Margy!" He yells.

What am I doing just standing here? I run over to Pat's side and throw one of my poison darts at the girl. She is momentarily startled, but then she turns to me. Why did it not work right away like it did on the rabbits?

Well, of course, humans have a stronger immune system. It'll take a while to set in. If it does AT ALL, that is.

I grab the spear out of its shoulder sheath. I'm terrified. This is it. This is how I'm going to die. I glance at Pat. He hasn't had any fight training. I need to at least try to protect him.

Jumping in front of Pat, I try and block every blow that comes with the shaft of the spear. Soon the flimsy wood breaks in half, but both pieces are still very long.

"Pat!" I yell. "Catch!" I toss him one piece of the spear so he defends himself when the girl turns to attack him. She's loosing energy. The poison is slowly taking over her body. I jab her in the side and she falls to the ground, defeated.

"I don't know how it is possible…" She mutters. "I trained so hard for three years…" Her eyes remain in to the skies as the poison takes total control. Then her whole body goes limp.

The cannon fires. She's dead. Pat confiscates her food and starts to head back to camp. I still can't believe it. We just killed a person. Granted, it was self-defense, but…

"Margy!" Pat calls. "Come on, we have to leave so the hovercraft can get to her."  
My eyes are still glued to the girl. Her expression is forever frozen in a state of pain.

"Come on, Marge, we need to cook the rabbits before dusk!"

I take one last glance at the body. Then, I leave.

**Wayne**

Once the Careers leave the tent, I sneak back in to discover they barely left anything. A half-full jar of cucumbers. A small pot of mincemeat. That's it. But I'm so hungry that I can't take it for granted. I grab both of the containers, pull out a cucumber and begin eating it. I carefully place the rest into my satchel, buckle it closed, and start walking towards a better hideout.

Out of nowhere, a pebble comes whizzing past my head. My head jerks towards the sender. It's the district 8 boy. His clothes are soaked in other's blood, and he looks as if he's gone mad. His district partner comes up behind him with a panicked look on her face. They both look around 15. The boy takes out his Cracker Jack nun chucks.

"Stand back, Olive," he warns the girl.

"No, listen, we don't need to do this. The guy's unarmed!"

The boy ignores Olive's warnings and charges me. My hands fumble for my hoops in my bag, but they are shaking too badly to open the latch. All of a sudden, a knife flies spinning between us, about an inch away from my face. It sticks into a tree. Just then, a devilishly beautiful figure walks into the clearing. Orange hair in a curly ponytail, red jumpsuit, purple satchel, petite body, and an intimidating glare.

"I wouldn't try anything like that if I were you," she says. I recognize that voice. Emily… Er, Emma… from District 1.

"Oh yeah?" The boy attempts to stay calm. "Why not?"

"Junius…" Olive says in a warning tone. "Maybe we should just leave…" She slowly backs away and soon disappears.

"He's with me," she tells Junius as she yanks an old-west style gun out of her belt. "But maybe you should watch your mouth, kid."

My heart is beating out of my chest. There hasn't been a gun in an arena for 10 years. She could easily kill us both.

"Please, there's no way you know how to shoot that thing!"

"I'm from District 2. My father is a Head Peacekeeper and he taught me everything he knows," she shoots back.

I can tell she's bluffing. Violet was the District 2 girl. Why is she trying to defend me? Though I remember the reapings, it is obvious that Junius doesn't. His face turns white as he slowly lowers the nun chucks.

"I'm going to count to five," she starts. "And if you don't leave by then, I WILL shoot." She rests her finger on the trigger. "One. Two. Three…"

Junius darts out of sight as fast as he can. At five, Emily pulls it.

"Bang," She mutters when nothing comes out of the barrel.

**Emily**

It actually worked. He just ran off. I drop my arm and turn to face the poor guy from 11. His eyes are illuminated with a spark of fear, as if he thinks I would kill him after all the trouble I caused saving him.

Which, I guess, is a more accurate guess than it sounds.

I take a head-to-toe look at him. He's very tall and lean, with dark, messy hair. Though he has a very boyish face, I can tell that he's around my age. He actually looks kind of charismatic. But he's not a fighter. He could be physically strong, but he couldn't kill another tribute. Not on purpose. He seems innocent in that way.

Or more like naïve. Killing is the only way one can win this game.

"That's… that's not a real weapon?" The boy stutters out, his wide, panicked eyes focused on my gun.

"Nope. Got it from a Shooting Gallery. The boy from 3 gave me the idea." I tuck it back into my belt. "So, you got a name?"

"Wayne," he says. "Wayne Frake. District 11."

"Nice to meet you, Wayne," I stick my hand out. "The name's Emily." He slowly takes it and shakes.

"Emily? But I thought your name-"

"Yeah, yeah, Emma's my real name. But Emily's my stage name." He gives me a quizzical look. "I'll tell you about it later," I finish.

"But… why did you just… save my life?" Wayne asks.

That's actually a great question. I hadn't really figured out the answer yet. I saw him being attacked by Junius, and I dove in without thinking.

Maybe it was because he was unarmed?

No, it was more than that.

The innocence.

Though he's roughly my age and the attackers were younger than either of us, he looked like a helpless child being bullied. He couldn't do anything to protect himself.

I choose my words carefully.

"I don't like to see nice guys get hurt. You seemed like you needed help." As the latter sentence escapes from my mouth, I'm worried that I may have offended him. But, instead, he seems grateful.

"Thank you," he says. His lips cautiously curve into a smile.

"No problem," I say as I begin to walk away.

"Wait! Don't go!" He calls. I spin around.

"Why not?"

"Because…I was wondering if you would like to be in an alliance with me?"

My face gets hot. I don't know what too say. My mentor said it would be best to not make any real allies, to stay solo. But I look back up into his deep, brown, puppy-dog eyes and realize that I'm the only chance he's got in this game.

"All right, let's be allies," I say. "First things first; we need to find a better shelter."

_Author's__ note:__  
_Golly, THIS was a long chapter! I feel accomplished. Good job, me. *Pats self on back*  
I know some parts seem rushed and some parts seem too slow, but I'll try and figure out pacing by the next chapter!

_~Bizarbara (Who is officially Effie for Halloween)_


	9. Bizarbara's Note

_Hi guys._

_So, in case anyone stumbles across this story and actually keeps reading to chapter 8, I'm sorry. I wrote this story a very long time ago and sort of abandoned it: partly because my run of State Fair ended and thus I lost interest, partly because I got too busy with school, and partly because I didn't like where I was settig it up to go plot-wise. So, yes, as warned in the description, the story ends here. However, I believe I've grown as a writer since this was written, and if you happen to be a fansie, I invite you to check out my new work-in-progress Hunger Games fanfic, "And Panem Will Know." But for now, this is Bizarbara signing out._

_Oh yes, and in the official rules of it says you're not allowed to have one chapter only serve as an author note, so just so this story isn't shut down, here's a bit of a story._

**Margy**

And then I woke up. It was _aaaaaaall just a dreeeeeeaaaaam._


End file.
